The flames were no longer whispers in the dark. They were *roaring* now—visible even to the highest towers of the capital. The *Ember Syndicate* had gone from myth to menace.
But this was just the beginning.
---
🔥 *A Fire Lit in Blood*
The council chamber of the Syndicate was lit not by lanterns, but by controlled flame—Ruby's idea. A reminder that what they built was born from fire, not light.
*Thorne* stood at the head of the circular stone table, a parchment unrolled before him.
> "This is no longer a game of shadows," he said, voice cold but deliberate. "We're issuing our first demand. Public. Written. Signed in blood."
Across the table, *Lysena* arched a brow.
> "What sort of demand?"
> "A pact. The nobles will pay for protection—or burn when the streets do."
*Rikkan* chuckled.
> "You're taxing the kingdom's cancer. Smart."
*Ruby*, leaning in with folded arms, looked skeptical.
> "And when they refuse?"
> "They won't. Not when the next name we take is from the Royal Circle."
---
🕯️ *The Pact Delivered*
[ At midnight, masked couriers dropped sealed scrolls into the estates of seven noble houses. Each bore the seal of a flaming eye—and a simple message:
> *"The Syndicate offers peace for a price.
Resist, and the flame will choose your heir.*
— E.S."*
By dawn, the city's elite was aflame—not from fire, but fear.
---
🗡️ *A Mission of Two*
While panic spread in noble halls, *Thorne* entrusted Ruby and Lysena with a critical strike: infiltrate a secret estate known as *Silverhold*—rumored to house the Church's underground ledger of inquisitions.
The tension between them was growing.
> "We don't work well together," Ruby muttered as they prepared.
> "We work *efficiently*," Lysena countered. "There's a difference."
Dressed in stealth-black, they slipped through the fog-choked district, silent shadows in sync despite their barbed words.
Inside Silverhold, they moved with lethal grace. Lysena's illusions masked their presence, while Ruby neutralized guards like a specter. They reached the ledger—but not alone.
A hooded inquisitor stood waiting, blade already drawn.
> "We knew you'd come," he hissed. "You don't understand who you're provoking."
Ruby's reply was steel—thrust through his heart before he could finish.
> "We understand *exactly* who we're provoking."
---
⚙️ *Secrets in the Smoke*
Back in the undercity, *Kaela* sat in her workshop, wires and runes scattered like bones on a ritual table. Her new device—a sound spider—had crawled into the rafters of a noble gala.
And what it overheard chilled her.
A familiar voice.
*"Kill Thorne. Cut off the head. The rest will scatter like rats."*
She replayed it again. The speaker?
*Lord Halven Valehart. Lysena's father.*
Her hands trembled slightly as she packaged the evidence. She knew what it meant.
---
⚔️ *Confrontation Beneath the Stone*
Thorne paced the quiet of the Ember tunnels beneath the capital's streets, now laced with traps and listening posts. The city above believed they were safe.
They weren't.
Kaela's report arrived in silence. Thorne read it slowly. Twice.
When Lysena returned from Silverhold, blood still staining her gloves, he met her alone.
"Your father has joined the Church's purge order."
She didn't flinch.
"Then he chose death."
"Would you kill him yourself?"
"If he walks against me, he's already dead."
They said nothing else. But in the silence, something shifted. Trust, cracked. Not broken—but no longer blind.
---
🕳️ *The First Noble Falls*
By week's end, the Syndicate made good on their threat.
*Lord Alric Mornwell*, the only noble to mock the Ember Pact, was found strung between his manor's gates—naked, throat cut, and the words:
*"PAID IN PRIDE"*
etched in fire on the stone beneath him.
The capital's response was immediate. Doors locked. Crowns bowed. Bribes flowed like rivers.
And the Syndicate? They watched it burn.
---
*End of Chapter 10*